


Nothing But Trouble

by Inell



Series: Just Like Me [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternative Universe - FBI, Case Fic, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski UST, FBI Agent Derek Hale, FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hunting a Serial Killer, M/M, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Mutual Pining, Pack Feels, Pack are FBI Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 08:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9312752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: Stiles gets Boyd’s assistance with his theory about the killer the team’s hunting. Then he has to deal with a suspicious Derek, a sleazy Matt, an annoyed Allison, and a relieved Jordan.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eeyore9990](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/gifts).



> eeyore9990 said: Stiles/Derek: “I’m not sorry, this isn’t an apology, I’m just being nice so you shut up!”
> 
> This prompt fit perfectly for the 4th part of the Just Like Me series. I really hope you enjoy it!

“Are you sure about this?” Boyd looks from Stiles’ face down to the piece of paper he’s holding.

“Nope. Not at all.” Stiles shrugs. “But I have a pretty good suspicion, or I wouldn’t involve you.”

“And you aren’t telling the rest of the team why?” Boyd asks, his tone measured but non-judgmental. This is the main reason that Stiles has approached him for assistance. The team is his family, and he doesn’t necessarily like keeping information from them, but the puzzle is still too blurry to involve them yet. Boyd, however, can keep secrets, even from Erica, so Stiles trusts that he’ll be discreet.

“They don’t need to know until I’m certain.” Stiles arches a brow. “You saw what I wrote on that paper. If that’s true, if I’m actually right about this, there’s no way they’d be able to remain professional so we could catch the perp. Allison and Derek would probably end up in jail without having a proper defense if they knew. You can’t tell me they wouldn’t overreact without any facts to support it.”

Boyd sighs. “I can’t,” he reluctantly agrees. “If this is true, do you have a plan?”

“Maybe?” Stiles smiles wryly. “I thought about it last night, and I came up with a few options. I need more data before I can decide the best path to take, though. That’s where you come in, buddy.”

“Those plans better be smart and include the whole team or I’m out.” Boyd looks back at the paper, studying it intently before he pulls a lighter out of his pocket.

“My plans are always smart.” Stiles watches Boyd drag his thumb over the spark wheel, the flame flickering as he holds the paper over it. “And I’m not about to deal with this alone if I’m right.”

“I’ll shadow the suspect,” Boyd says, watching the paper turn to ash. “He won’t even know I’m there. Overnight only?”

“If he’s the one who has Paige hidden somewhere, I think he probably visits at night, but I’m not really sure,” Stiles admits. “I texted you to arrange this meeting as soon as I saw the pieces fitting together. We’re on a short timeline here, if the perp continues the trend that’s already been set, and I couldn’t wait to move until I was one hundred percent sure. I’m trusting my instincts on this one.”

“You’ve got good instincts, Stiles.” Boyd flicks the lighter off and puts it back in his pocket. “What’s the reason that I’m going out alone? You know they’ll ask.”

“You’re checking up on a potential lead. Staking out the college that Paige attends to see if you see the suspect.” Stiles gets a Kleenex and leans down to pick up the ashes that are all that’s left of his theory for this case. “Everyone but you hates stakeouts because they’re boring, so no one will offer to help.”

“Using your skills to analyze your own team and put your knowledge to use against us is pretty sneaky,” Boyd points out. “You should be grateful that we all know you’re a shrewd son of a bitch or else we’d probably resent you.”

“You could never resent me, Boyd. You know I’m your favorite. Hell, I’m everyone’s favorite.” Stiles grins at him.

“No, that would be Allison. We merely tolerate you.” Boyd flashes a quick smile before he rubs his head. “Promise me you’re not going to do anything stupid while I’m out playing follow the leader.”

Stiles shakes his head. “You know I can’t do that. We both have contradictory definitions of stupid. Besides that, I never make a promise if I’m not positive I’ll be able to keep it.”

“At least try, alright?” Boyd stares at him intently.

“I can try, but you know how much I love trouble, big guy.” Stiles shrugs. “Or, really, how much trouble seems to love me.”

“Stiles, you’re nothing but trouble.” Boyd looks behind Stiles and arches a brow. “Did you tell Derek to meet you here?”

“Huh?” Stiles turns to look and frowns when he sees Derek. Looking back at Boyd, he says, “No, I didn’t. I’d hoped no one would know we’d even met, but especially not Mr. Paranoid himself.”

“Yeah, I’m not getting caught in whatever drama you two have happening right now. I’ll let you know if the suspect does anything suspicious. Be careful.” Boyd squeezes his shoulder before he nods at Derek, who has just reached them. “Hello, Derek. Goodbye, Derek,” he says before he turns and walks away, heading to the parking lot on the other side of the park.

“What’re you doing here?” Derek asks, looking after Boyd for a moment before focusing on Stiles. “You said you were meeting up with Allison to help with the interviews.”

“I _am_ meeting up with Allison.” Stiles looks at him. “I just had to stop off to see Boyd first. He’s going on a stakeout, some lead out at the college where Paige goes, and I needed to clarify a few things about his report on Timothy Lake. It turns out that Casey Morris was left closer to the water than the other bodies, so I wanted to know if he thought there might be something to read into that.”

“What’d he say?” Derek arches a brow, giving Stiles a look that indicates he doesn’t believe a word he’s saying. Stiles is an excellent liar, not that he often has to utilize that particular skill. It’s totally unfair that Derek can see through his lies so easily, especially when he isn’t even lying this time. He and Boyd did discuss the location of the body dump in the Morris case before Stiles brought up his theory.

“He said that he thinks the dump happened without as much planning as the others. It seemed less neat, possibly indicating an interruption of some kind.” Stiles runs his fingers through his hair. “I think that’s a possible explanation, and it makes me wonder if the perp was startled or if Casey Morris died before he planned to kill her.”

“He seems to be rather focused on order based on the patterns we’ve seen,” Derek says thoughtfully. The suspicious look is starting to fade. Thank God. He really doesn’t want Derek or the others involved he’s got more evidence to support his theory than an odd dream and pieces fitting into a puzzle the right way. “If the pattern started by accident, prior to his planned schedule, what do you think would cause that?”

“I’m not sure.” Stiles starts walking towards the lot where he parked, seeing a bench not too far ahead. They’ll be able to sit and discuss the case. “Maybe he thought she’d satisfy the craving. He had her for nine days. The body hadn’t been out more than fifteen hours according to the coroner. If the suspicion we have is correct, and she was just a stand-in for who he really wanted, maybe he realized that she wasn’t taking care of the urge, so he played too hard. Ready to move on to James.”

“That’s possible.” Derek sits down when they reach the bench. “So his original schedule was longer but he cut it short. We know the time is being reduced with each new victim. Paige has been missing for over twenty-four hours now, which means she has, what, four more days if he stays steady?”

“I don’t know it’s going to be that long,” Stiles admits. “I think he’s getting closer to finding what he believes he’s looking for, and that means he’s going to want to take and claim sooner rather than later. When they reach that point, feeling the culmination of weeks, months, or even years’ worth of hunting, their impulse control gets weak, and they get careless. They become more unpredictable, and the patterns can change.”

“You think he’s reaching that point?” Derek just looks at Stiles, not asking how he knows or why he feels this way. Just trusting his opinion without needing explanations or support. It’s little wonder why Stiles has fallen for him over the years, especially when he does thoughtful shit like this.

“If my suspicions of what he’s looking for are true, I think he’s reached that point,” Stiles says carefully, not wanting to give anything away in case Derek realizes there are theories that Stiles isn’t sharing yet.

“What do you think he’s looking for, Stiles?” Derek blinks and looks away. “Nevermind. Forget I asked that. I know you don’t like talking about your past with everyone.”

Stiles reaches over to squeeze Derek’s bicep. “Hey, it’s fine. You aren’t everyone, Derek,” he murmurs, dragging his thumb along the soft black material of Derek’s suit coat before dropping his hand. “I think he’s looking for someone who understands, who sees things the way he does, who fits this vision he’s created that he’s been trying to mold the previous victims into without success.”

“And you think he believes he’s found someone to fit the mold?” Derek nudges Stiles’ leg with his knee, just a casual touch that is really anything but.

“Maybe. It’s possible he’s been at this as far back as two years, if the Booker murder was one of his, which would alter the time frame from a few weeks to a lot longer.” Stiles shrugs. “When I was taken by the Jackal, he’d been at it for eighteen years.” _Little fox. You’re thinking about me again_. Stiles starts tapping his foot on the ground. “I was only ten, so I don’t really remember much.” _Liar liar pants on fire. You’ll never forget our time together, little fox_. “He was planning to leave me as a gift for my father to find, since he’d gotten too close with his investigation, but he saw something in me, saw that spark he’d been looking for, so he decided to keep me instead.”

“Stiles?” Derek is gripping his knee, stopping him from bouncing his leg, and Stiles blinks at him, realizing he’s zoned out to block the whispers in his ears and the memories that like to flash through his mind like horrific home movies. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Stiles clears his throat when he hears how hoarse he sounds. It’s been twenty-two years, double the age he’d been then, and he can still hear the raspy voice and smell the scent of musk sage and nightshade. Derek just looks at him, and he shakes his head. “Not really. This one is poking at wounds that have been healed for years, Der. I don’t really even know why, but it is.”

“If they’re bothering you this much, maybe they aren’t as healed as you think,” Derek suggests, taking his time like he’s choosing his words carefully.

“Maybe healed isn’t the right word. Scarred over but still a little infected might be more appropriate.” Stiles shrugs, leaning into Derek’s hand when he strokes his hair. “Anyway, I’m okay. Just haven’t really talked about it in a long time.”

“You’re incredibly strong, you know?” Derek looks at him, his gaze intense before he glances away. “I know we don’t tell you that often enough, but you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.”

“Nah, I’m not strong. I’m just a survivor.” Stiles pushes himself off the bench, needing a change of subject before the memories distract him. “We should probably get to the office. I’m surprised Ali hasn’t been texting me demanding to know where I’m at. We’re doing the interviews from ten to two today. Feel free to help out if you don’t have anything else to do.”

“You know that people find me intimidating, Stiles. Potential witnesses aren’t going to tell me anything. You need to use Isaac or Danny,” Derek says, standing up and stretching, not protesting the topic change. “Besides, I’m planning to start sorting through the cold cases, try to see if I spot any that have similarities with our current victims. Danny’s put some into a search program that’s supposed to filter photos that have comparable traits, so I said I’d search through those while he works on witness background checks.”

“I think I’ll stick with the living witnesses,” Stiles mutters, knowing he could use the distraction of interviewing to take his mind off other stuff. “I just hope someone saw something so this isn’t another dead end.”

“Didn’t you say that you weren’t sure the club was even part of it?” Derek follows Stiles to the Tahoe, which he’d taken the keys to while Derek was in the shower earlier. Which reminds him—

“Do you need a ride? How did you even find me?” Stiles had got so caught up in making sure Derek didn’t question his meeting with Boyd that he forgot that he’d snuck out earlier. “And I don’t know if the club matters or not. Worth pursuing either way.”

“I had the hotel shuttle driver take me around until I saw the Tahoe, so, yes, I need a ride.” Derek holds out his hand. Stiles rolls his eyes but the keys into his palm. “Next time, just ask to borrow it. You don’t have to steal the keys.”

“I didn’t steal the keys. You were taking a shower, and I didn’t want to interrupt that in case you were having Private Derek Time, so I just grabbed them so I could run a few errands,” he says, not missing the way Derek fumbles with the keys when he mentions his possible shower activities.

“Yeah, well, I could have driven you here,” Derek mutters, sliding the key into the ignition and starting the car.

Stiles fastens his seatbelt and leans his head against the window. “We should probably stop to get coffee as a bribe to prevent Allison from yelling at me.”

Derek snorts. “You’ll probably need to also throw in a brownie to avoid that if you’re too late. You know how she gets when she has to wait on anyone.”

“Maybe two brownies.” Stiles glances at the clock and makes a face. He got so caught up talking with Derek that he is, indeed, twenty minutes late. Allison would be totally understanding, he knows, if not for the fact that he hadn’t actually been doing anything productive. Brainstorming with Derek is one of his favorite things about a case, but it’s not officially an assigned task or anything. Allison will give him that disappointed look that indicates she knows exactly _why_ he got caught up in Derek, and then he’ll feel like a scolded kid brother because that’s the dynamic he’s had with Allison since the first day they met.

“We’ll stop by the coffee place near the office,” Derek says, giving Stiles a fond look before his expression becomes neutral and aloof. Like he caught himself relaxing and displaying emotion he hadn’t intended to, which probably shouldn’t make Stiles’ heart beat a tad bit faster but does.

It takes longer in the drive-thru getting their order than it does driving from the park to the office. Everyone has special orders, so coffee duty is usually something Jackson and Allison take care of because they’re the most patient members of the team. Well, Allison is, but Jackson can usually charm the baristas into forgetting what a pain in the ass their complicated order is. He’s got that certain charisma that appeals to everyone so long as they aren’t around him long enough to realize he’s actually a sassy asshole with a superiority complex.

When Derek pulls into a parking spot at the Portland field office, Stiles reaches to unbuckle his seatbelt, only to have Derek grab his hand. Glancing up, he gives Derek a curious look. “Everything okay?”

“No, it’s not.” Derek drags his thumb over Stiles’ knuckles, swaying slightly like he’s fighting the urge to kiss Stiles. He wants to speak up and tell Derek to stop resisting, but he doesn’t because that would be acknowledging this unspoken connection between them. “Matt’s lurking near the front door,” Derek says quietly. “You should stay here while I go deal with him.”

“What?” Stiles blinks because _that_ isn’t what he’d expected Derek to say. His mind has been on the possibility of a first kiss, finally feeling the brush of Derek’s lips against his, but that’s not what Derek had been thinking about at all. Matt. What the hell is Matt doing loitering around the FBI office? Stiles shakes his head and refocuses, pushing away the twinge of disappointment in the way that’s become very familiar over the last six years. “Derek, I can handle Matt myself. I don’t need you to deal with him.”

“You’re already dealing with some memories I know you’d rather forget resurfacing since running into him at Sunny’s, and I don’t want him fucking with your head any more than he already has. You need to be clear-headed to deal with this case if we’ve got a chance at finding Paige,” Derek says, getting that stubborn tilt of his chin, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he glares out the front window towards the front of the building. “I really don’t like that guy creeping around you.”

“Derek, I appreciate your concern, but I’m a big boy. In more ways than one.” Stiles leers but it’s a weak effort because he doesn’t like seeing Matt hanging around, either. He hands Derek the tray of coffee and unfastens his seatbelt. “I’ll see what he wants,” he says, slipping out of the Tahoe before Derek has a chance to protest. He knows he’ll have to pay for that later, but it’s worth it to avoid a potential Derek and Matt confrontation. Considering everything going on at the moment, he’d like to keep those two as separated as possible.

As he walks to the front door, he scans the area because he practices what Moody preaches: constant vigilance. Matt has obviously seen him because he straightens up and gets a smirky grin that Stiles wants to punch off his face. Stiles feels his shoulders tensing up as he gets closer, not even relaxing when he notices Boyd sitting in an old Toyota with a good view of the front door. He does feel a rush of affection for his teammate, though, because Boyd’s already on the job he’s doing with few questions asked just because of his faith in Stiles’ instincts. Sometimes, he doesn’t know what he’s done to get lucky enough to have a team like that, a family like them, but he’s selfish enough to keep them now that they’re his.

“Stiles, fancy seeing you here.” Matt raises his camera like he’s going to snap a candid shot, so Stiles reaches out to push the camera back down with just enough firmness to get his point across without seeming as disturbed as he really feels at the moment. He isn’t in the mood to deal with Matt.

“What are you doing here, Daehler?” Stiles casually puts his hands on his hips, deliberately tightening his suit coat to remind Matt that he’s armed so he’d better tread carefully. Normally, he wouldn’t even be concerned about Matt, but everything right now has him a little bit on edge.

“I know you’ve got a big _gun_ , Stiles. You don’t have to show it off,” Matt says, arching a brow and stepping closer. “Where’s your guard dog? I don’t see the ever so delightful Agent Hale anywhere, which is odd since he’s usually within ten feet of you.”

“Agent Hale has nothing to do with why you’re lurking around the FBI offices, so why don’t you get to the point. I’ve got work to do.” Stiles holds his ground, not impressed with Matt’s attempts to crowd him.

“You need to be nicer to me, Stiles. Haven’t you ever heard that you catch more flies with honey?” Matt smiles. “The lovely Agent Argent actually requested my presence this morning. I _did_ tell you that I was at the same club where the missing woman was last seen. Unfortunately, Agent Argent didn’t have anything to trade for my information, unlike you, so my interview was merely a formality.”

“So you were interviewed and decided to wait around so you could pester me by taunting me with information you supposedly possess yet wouldn’t share in a federal investigation?” Stiles scoffs. “You’re grasping at straws, Daehler. I’m not appreciative of coercion, and I could have you arrested if it turns out you’re deliberately impeding an ongoing investigation.”

“Since a young woman’s life is at risk, I’d be willing to share my information over a drink in exchange for a round of twenty questions.” Matt takes a step back when Stiles moves closer, gaze dropping to Stiles’ hip, eyes widening slightly when he sees Stiles’ fingers caressing the handle of his gun. “Yes, well, this has been a fascinating conversation, but I really do need to get back to work. If you happen to have a change of heart, I’m in room 212 at the Davenport.”

Stiles doesn’t even bother replying. He just stares Matt down until the other man scurries away like the rat he is, then he turns back to the parking lot, immediately seeing Derek glaring at him. He’s standing by the Tahoe, the coffee trays and bags with extras piled on the hood, and Stiles knows it’s going to be a frosty reception as he walks back to help him bring everything inside. He’s not wrong because Derek verbally pounces as soon as he’s within range.

“What the hell was that?” Derek doesn’t yell when he’s angry. Instead, he gets quiet and sort of scary. Like his rage is boiling under the surface and he could snap at any time, yet Stiles has only seen him snap a handful of times over the years. Fortunately, he’s never been the target, either. He has, however, been the focus of the quietly sharp anger.

“Matt posturing and trying to get an interview for whatever information he supposedly knows.” Stiles shifts his weight from one foot to the other, hating the faint guilty feeling nagging at him for deliberately keeping Derek away from Matt. But he shouldn’t feel guilty because it’s safer for everyone involved if those two don’t clash.

“You took off without knowing any of that, Stiles. You’re aware that guy wants something from you that you don’t want to give him, and yet you still rushed off to confront him instead of letting me dispose of him.” Derek’s nostrils are actually flaring, which lets Stiles know that he’s really upset about this.

“You make it sound like he’s my prom date hoping to get lucky when I don’t want to put out,” Stiles mutters, shifting again when Derek gives him a pointed look.

“I’m not entirely sure that scenario is that far-fetched, are you?” Derek shoves one of the trays of drinks into Stiles’ hands, not even giving him a chance to deny that aspect of Matt’s interest in him. “I told you I’d handle it, but you obviously don’t trust me enough to remain in control around that jerk.”

“Oh, stop it right there, Derek. You know I trust you more than just about anyone I know,” Stiles says firmly. “I might have stepped in to avoid a pissing contest between you and Daehler, but you don’t get to insinuate that I don’t trust you because you’re angry.”

“A pissing contest?” Derek huffs. “Is that what you think it’d be? You’re impossible, Stiles. You look at that creep and see some pest that can get swatted away instead of the serious threat that he could become. I don’t like him practically stalking you or even being in the general vicinity of the team.”

“I can handle Daehler.” Stiles looks at Derek as they enter the building. “But fine. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have stepped in and got rid of him without resorting to a punch to the face the way _some_ people want to deal with him. You’re right, Derek. That was just stupid of me.”

“You’re being a sarcastic ass,” Derek says tightly, nerve in his cheek twitching.

“What do you want from me, Derek? An apology?” Stiles shakes his head. “I can’t do that. I’m not sorry. This isn’t an apology. I’m just being nice so you shut up!”

“Right. When do you ever admit culpability?” Derek is grinding his teeth now, which isn’t a good sign. “Stiles is never wrong. He can’t possibly ever say he’s sorry because it’s never his fault.”

“You’re late,” Allison says as soon as they step into the room they’re using. He’d kiss her if she wasn’t like a sister to him because the interruption has prevented a potential argument from escalating. She takes the bag that Stiles is carrying and looks inside. “Brownies? Hmm. You’re not forgiven, but I’ll at least consider it. Now get your ass in interrogation room three to help save Parrish from himself. He’s too polite to cut these people off, so I’ve interviewed ten to his three so far.”

“Room three. Got it.” Stiles puts the tray down and looks at Derek, who is avoiding his gaze. He sighs and reaches out, squeezing his forearm briefly. “Sorry,” he whispers, watching Derek look at him in surprise. He flashes a wry smile before he takes his coffee and hurries off to room three. When he gets there, he knocks twice before entering. “Sorry to interrupt. I’m Agent Stilinski, and I’m assisting Agent Parrish with the interviews today.”

“Good to see you,” Jordan says, looking relieved when Stiles slides into the chair next to his. “This is Stephanie Von Duran, and she’s been answering some questions about her time at Slaughter on Saturday night.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Von Duran.” Stiles nods politely and immediately analyzes the situation. Stephani Von Duran is an attractive young woman who seems to be enjoying the view of a flushed Jordan Parrish wearing a simple blue suit. While it _is_ a nice image, it’s obvious that Jordan’s not handling the flirtatious nature of the young woman very well.

“Agent Stilinski.” She looks him over and grins, leaning towards him to show off her rather nice cleavage. “Goodness, if I’d realized the FBI had such attractive agents, I’d have committed a crime ages ago.”

“Oh, have you committed a crime now? Besides stealing hearts, of course,” Stiles says, smoothly moving into the right personality for this interrogation. He notices Jordan look at him in surprise and winks before focusing on Ms. Von Duran. It takes another fifteen minutes for him find out that she did actually see Paige talking a couple of women that sound like two of the friends who had been with her that night. There wasn’t very much useful information, but Stiles managed to get her to wrap up her statement and get out the door.

“How do you do that?” Jordan asks as soon as Stiles shuts the door behind her. “I kept trying to get her to focus, but she’d just make inappropriate remarks about being frisked and turned everything into an innuendo, so I didn’t know how to handle her.”

“It’s just a gift.” Stiles shrugs. “I’m surprisingly good at questioning witnesses. My superior has said that it’s inherited, since my father was one of the best profilers in the agency back in the eighties and nineties.” Stiles takes a sip of his coffee before sitting back down. He doesn’t talk about his dad that often, but he’s reached a point over the twenties years since he died that he can remember the good memories without that triggering any of the bad ones. His dad had been his hero before the Jackal had basically broken him through Stiles, and Stiles tries to remember that feeling of pride and idolization when he thinks about his dad now.

“Oh? Followed in your dad’s footsteps?” Jordan asks curiously, moving his chair a little closer. “Is he retired?”

“He’s dead. Drunk driving accident over twenty years ago,” Stiles says, studying Jordan for a moment to gauge his reaction to that matter-of-statement. “But, yes, I followed him into the bureau because I wanted to make a difference. What brought you here?”

“Sorry about your dad.” Jordan rubs the back of his neck and looks regretful at bringing it up. “As for me, I did a couples of tours in the army, decided not to go career, and a former captain of mine suggested I look into applying here instead of going for the sheriff’s department job that I’d been considering.”

“Are you glad you did?” Stiles asks, glancing at his phone when it buzzes. It’s a message from Derek, telling him he’s found another possible cold case that might be their perp. Looking back at Jordan, he arches a brow. “Is the bureau better than the sheriff’s department, Jordan?”

“Oh, yes. I think it’s a lot better.” Jordan smiles shyly. “It’s improving every day, in fact.”

“That’s good.” Stiles smiles before buzzing for their next witness. He’ll look at the case Derek’s found after the interviews are finished. For now, they need to get these done in case there are any witnesses who saw Paige leave Slaughter with an unknown male.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Nothing But Trouble](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14928044) by [taikodragon (hana_ginkawa)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hana_ginkawa/pseuds/taikodragon)




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